Poetic Justice
by Alliriyan
Summary: Had Yuriko woken a little earlier, she might have found hope, freedom and revenge. X2.


He picked up the handle, flexed the trigger in his grip and advanced towards his foe. She was still for a moment, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the chrome device in his hand.

Before he could even begin to stab at her, she shot backwards in a knee-jerk reaction. A cool, unfeeling killer, she had been relentless in her attack from the moment Stryker left the room. But now she was on the defensive, backing away all the time, watching the barrel of the pump as though it were a silver snake poised to strike.

Fear was flooding her, overpowering the drug in her veins. Numb movement was being replaced by the instinct to run. The serum that had controlled her for endless years had nearly dissipated in any case, with no one thinking to dose her in all the panic. Lady Deathstrike crumpled, and Yuriko leapt into immediate flight.

There was no time to stare in wonder as her hands and legs obeyed her commands. Not a hint of joy was felt, as with every other time her keepers had been lax with her treatment. She had to escape this monster.

Sprinting across the room, she hammered a passcode into the keypad; exiting in the same direction Stryker had. Thrown off guard by her sudden retreat, the heavy steel door was slammed shut in Wolverine's face as he gave chase. He could see her turn and throw a fearful look through the two-inch thick glass. Her clear brown eyes fixed on his raging face.

Even though she ran for her life, crystal shards shredded her back and embedded her skin as a three-clawed fist punched through the tiny window. She could feel the pain. It didn't matter how quickly she healed. The drug no longer deadened her nerves, and now they were on fire.

Through the murky green warren of concrete tunnels, Yuriko fled the man with the adamantium gun.

* * *

Logan sucked in a gasp, air hissing through his teeth. Shattering the window had been a stupid gesture. He shook his wrist, sending smithereens of glass bouncing all over the floor. The cuts, both shallow and deep, automatically smoothed themselves away. Deciding not to chase the woman with the macabre manicure into the maze of the underground base; he began to make his way back to the others. Knowing them, they probably needed rescuing from something.

He took one last look at the room of his nightmares. Gaze falling on the tank of molten adamantium, he felt his body shudder from a memory his mind could not recall. The man rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck, quashing the feelings of dread. He picked up the pump that he had almost thrust into the assassin, and understood why she had reacted so strongly to it.

He wasn't one of a kind. Stryker had told him, mockingly, that his – bodyguard? – had been through the Weapon X program, before he left her to dispose of Wolverine. Logan dropped the thing abruptly. The dreams were unclear and faded quickly, but it was obvious what that gun had been used for. She seemed to remember it more clearly than he did. Revolted, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Everything happened too quickly after that. Storm and the blue guy had rescued Xavier and the kids; Scott had been returned to their side, Magneto had vanished and the dam had burst. Jean…No. He couldn't afford to think about that just yet. Let them get back to safety, and then, maybe, he would allow himself to cry.

Scott was crying, yelling, fighting, despairing; all at once more emotion than any human should have to bear. _She's gone_. He couldn't say it, but Logan could. And Scott hated him for that.

The jet sped to the Institute on autopilot, its sorrowful cargo too lost to care about their destination.

* * *

Yuriko hauled herself through the snow, not even wincing from the wounds that had torn straight through her a short time ago. She was looking for something.

She had found it. A pitiful excuse for a human, a barbaric monster, a man bent on mass genocide. From the puncture wounds in his arm and the chains trussing him to a wall, it looked like others had got there first.

_Could none of them finish the job?_ She thought, viciously grinding her boot into his chest. William Stryker rolled a helpless eye at her, saw her eyes were sentient and blazing with vengeance; and cowered in his chains.

He summoned up the energy to spit at her face and snarl, "_mutant!_"

Staring down at the source of all her misery, Deathstrike extended her long, slender claws and struck him across the face. Metal bit deep into his fat cheeks, scraping against his clenched teeth and drawing a scream of pain. Then she watched him bleed and sob for a while.

"Don't beg, Stryker! I never had that chance! I never had a choice; when to sleep, when to move, when to die!"

The only word he understood was his name, for her voice was hoarse and rusty from years of neglect; and she spoke in her own tongue. But she still said the words triumphantly, defying his orders to speak only English if she ever spoke at all.

Bending down and reaching into one of his pockets, she pulled out the vial of control serum. Clenching it in anger, she dug her nails into his crown and dragged his head forward.

She sliced the cap off the dropper with her other hand. She poised it over the nape of his neck and crushed the bottle in her palm, splattering the contents all over him. Then she pushed his bloody face back up.

"William Stryker," growled his former slave. He gazed blankly at her.

"_Die._" hissed Yuriko. "_Kill yourself!_" demanded Lady Deathstrike.

Numbly, his mind screaming at him to stop; Stryker forced his throat against the chains crisscrossing his body and slowly began to choke. Within minutes, he fell perfectly still, his face utterly emotionless.

Yuriko smiled in satisfaction, sheathed her blades, and walked away.

* * *

_Lyrics in summary from Paul Carrack's 'Eyes of Blue'._


End file.
